


Side By Side With A Friend

by TheMockingJ3



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Angst, First two prompts are humour, Friendship, Gen, Gressenheller Gang, Humour, Last one contains angst, Lord of the Rings references, The description has nothing to do with the story aside from being a LotR quote, The title is also a reference to that one line that is also a meme, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingJ3/pseuds/TheMockingJ3
Summary: “Don't go where I can't follow, Hershel!”“Clark, I am literally just nipping out to get milk—“
Relationships: Hershel Layton & Clark Triton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Side By Side With A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and Lord of the Rings, a series I couldn’t even finish. Also, nightmares and angst in the last prompt, yay.  
> Spoilers: For Spectre’s Call and Azran Legacy.  
> Set: First two prompts are at Gressenheller, third prompt is after AL.

**Inside Jokes**

“Sorry we’re late!” Brenda gasped as she and Claire jumped off the bus outside the theatre. “ _Someone_ was a bit hung-over from last night…” She shot Claire a sideways glance.

Clark and Hershel blinked at Claire. If she was ‘hung-over’, she hid it incredibly well.

“It was cocktail night at the institute,” Claire explained, smiling sheepishly.

Hershel chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry… You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve caught Clark with a hangover—“

“Let’s get inside for the show, _shall we?”_ Clark laughed airily. He linked arms with Brenda. “Don’t want to lose our seats—“

“No, no— _do_ tell, Hershel!” Brenda insisted. She grinned from Hershel to Clark, wiggling her eyebrows. Clark blushed.

“Well, there was the day after Clark handed in his final project last year—“ 

“Hershel, _please_ ,” Clark coughed.

Now Claire was in on it too. “ _Go on, Hershel…”_

There was no way Hershel could resist Claire. (No one on _Earth_ could.)

Clark tried to drag Brenda into the theatre, but she clung to Claire, who clung to Hershel. Clark was doomed.

“I found him sleeping in the _shower_ ,” Hershel announced.

Brenda and Claire burst out laughing. Clark hung his head. “Hershel, how could you _betray me_ like this?” he groaned.

“Hahah! What if I buy the popcorn in compensation?”

“…Deal.”

* * *

**Book Recommendations**

Dr. Schrader had granted Hershel access to the staff library above the department of archaeology. Hershel had never felt so grateful to his mentor. More than anyone, Dr. Schrader understood Hershel’s struggle.

Hershel couldn’t go home. He couldn’t step foot in the student library. (Far too risky…) He could be spotted in the campus’s study areas and _especially_ in the cafe. He couldn’t go to Claire’s flat, because Brenda would be there too…

At least he was safe _here_. Hershel sighed contently as he sat ensconced at a desk behind a tall bookshelf. Finally, he could finish his essay in peace.

He had found a useful quote from the book he was reading by revered archaeologist Richard Pendrake. Hershel was about to jot down the quote in his journal, when he realised he had dropped his pen.

He checked under the desk— _there it was_. As he reached down to grab the pen, he heard the library door open and close.

Hershel froze, still hidden under the desk. He listened as someone strode around the staff library. Whoever it was, they were coming straight towards Hershel. Hershel gripped his pen.

“D-Dr. Schrader?” Hershel whispered hopefully.

From beneath the desk, Hershel saw a pair of black faux leather shoes, connected to blue jeans. (None of the archaeology tutors wore _jeans_.)

“Hershel, is that you?” The blue jeans bent down and Clark’s beaming face appeared. “It _is_! You’ll never guess what I’ve got—“

“Clark, I’ve _told_ you…” Hershel straightened up in his seat with a huff. “I’m not interested in _Lord of the Rings_ —“

A hardback green book landed on his desk. “Not _Lord of the Rings_ ,” Clark raved. “ _The Hobbit_! An excellent introduction to Middle-earth— you’ll love it…!”

Clark prattled on and on about how the book would be _perfect_ for an adventurer such as himself. Hershel banged his head against the desk.

Why did he feel like he’d had this conversation before?

* * *

**“I’m sleeping.” “But, you’re talking.”**

Someone was rattling at the door.

Hershel bolted up in bed— but wait, this wasn’t _his_ bed or _his_ room…

 _You’re staying in Salisbury for the archaeology conference with Clark_ , the rational side of his brain recalled.

The instinctive, panicked part of his brain was searching for a weapon. His hand groped around in the dark until it hit the bedside lamp. He switched the lamp on.

“Did you hear that?” Hershel gasped as he surveyed their room at the guest house. His eyes fell on Clark’s empty bed with its covers thrown aside. “ _Clark_?”

Hershel leapt out of bed, grabbed Clark’s latest tomb-of-a-book, and stumbled out of the room.

Clark had probably just gone to the bathroom or the kitchen, knowing him…

Why, then, did it sound like someone was trying to _break in?_

Hershel’s heart pounded in time with every bang as he tiptoed down the hall. He pictured armed brutes bursting in, dragging Clark out into the night…

Hershel held the book to his heart— it would serve as a shield or a battering ram if need be. He might have to resort to force in order to save his friend—

But there were no enemies at their door. It was only Clark, wrestling with the door chain and the handle.

“Clark…?” Hershel exclaimed, perplexed. He lowered the book. “Are you alright—?”

“I need to… do something,” Clark muttered. That didn’t answer Hershel’s question.

“Do _what_?” Hershel asked as he crept closer to Clark. “Why are you—“

“I need to _get them out!”_

Hershel stopped. “ _Oh…_ ” he mumbled. Hershel watched as Clark relived a nightmare, shame and grief curdling inside him. (For a moment, Hershel despised his brother.)

Again, Clark raised his fist to the door. Hershel caught his hand.

“Clark,” he said, clearly but gently. Rumour had it that you shouldn’t wake a sleepwalker, but Hershel didn’t put much stock into rumours. “ _Clark_. It’s _me_ , _Hershel_.”

Clark blinked. His eyes were bleary as they drifted to Hershel. “ _Hershel_?” he breathed. “You’re _here…?”_

“We’re staying in _Salisbury_ — do you remember? Luke, Brenda and Doland are back home in London. Everyone is _fine_ , I give you my word.”

“That’s… that’s right,” Clark sighed. “Thank you, Hersh…” He swayed on his feet slightly.

Hershel pushed him down the hall. “Back to bed, old boy.”

He didn’t mention the sleepwalking incident to Clark the next morning. (For all the times Hershel had woken up _screaming_ in university, he owed Clark that.)

Clark seemed to have no memory of the night, but he laughed when he noticed Hershel had moved his massive book. 

“After all these years, I _finally_ got you to pick up a fantasy book!”

Hershel merely smiled. “Something within it just called to me, I suppose.”


End file.
